


Hero

by hurt_mod, leontina (Leontina)



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-29
Updated: 2015-03-29
Packaged: 2018-03-20 06:31:31
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 17,832
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3640302
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hurt_mod/pseuds/hurt_mod, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Leontina/pseuds/leontina
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Harry is a drug addict, and helping him proves more difficult than Draco initially thought.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Hero

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you to E for the beta. I hope you like this, anemonen. This was hard for me to write, and I really hope the seriousness of drug addiction comes across in this. One of the main sites I used for research was Frank, which is very helpful for people who need it.
> 
> CONTENT WARNINGS IN END NOTE.

***  
Draco knew instantly that something was wrong when he opened the door to Harry’s bedroom and saw Harry freeze. He was facing away from Draco, standing in front of the set of drawers that Draco knew held a secret compartment.

“Harry?” Draco asked sharply, which snapped Harry out of his trance. 

Harry slammed the drawer shut with so much force that the whole set shook. He spun around quickly, fixing Draco with a forced smile.

“I thought you were at work tonight,” Harry said, clenching and unclenching his fingers repeatedly. 

“Wilkerson wanted to switch shifts with me,” Draco answered slowly, narrowing his eyes. Harry was grinding his teeth, and looking everywhere but at Draco. “Everything alright, Harry?”

“Everything’s great,” Harry replied too quickly, too high-pitched. It did nothing to ease Draco’s suspicions. 

Draco knew, now, the tell-tale signs. He knew what the twitching fingers and dilated pupils meant, and he knew that Harry tried too hard to be casual when he was lying. Draco didn’t know how long it had been since Harry had used, and he was in no mood to play games.

“What did you take, Harry?” His voice was stern, because Harry was stubborn and didn’t listen if Draco spoke to him gently. The downside was that being authoritative made Harry angry, but at least he listened.

“I’ve not taken anything; I’ve been clean for a month now,” Harry hissed indignantly, folding his arms across his chest. “You can’t just go accusing me of using whenever you get a bit paranoid. I thought you trusted me.”

“I trust you, Harry,” Draco said truthfully, “but I don’t trust your illness.”

“I’m not ill,” Harry argued. His fingers were drumming heavily on his arm now, with the rest of his body tense.

“Addiction _is_ an illness,” Draco replied, watching while Harry mutely shook his head. “Fine; if you’re not on anything you won’t mind letting me have a look in the drawer then, will you?”

Harry opened his mouth, then shut it again, and Draco knew that Harry knew he had been caught. Harry never went down without a fight though; he was always on the defensive whenever he used.

“I do mind, actually,” Harry said finally, unfolding his arms and resting them on each side of the drawer set to make a physical barrier. Harry shouldn’t have even known the drugs were in there. “What gives you the right to barge in here and accuse me of using, and then go through my stuff?”

“Because it’s my stuff,” Draco pointed out hotly. Both of them knew the truth, but Draco wanted to see the physical evidence before he did anything drastic. And he _would_ get that evidence, no matter how hard Harry tried to hide it from him. “Now get out of the way or I’ll make you move.”

There was a split second when nothing happened. Then Harry’s eyes flashed and he charged, but Draco was quicker drawing his wand.

A quick Trip Jinx sent Harry tumbling to the floor. Draco jumped over him and yanked the drawer open, lifting the bottom of it up to look into the secret compartment. Even though he already knew what he was going to find, Draco’s heart sank when his gaze fell upon the ripped plastic bag filled with little pills - the bag had been sealed shut the last time Draco checked. 

Harry’s arm appeared from nowhere and dragged Draco backwards, but it was too late; Draco had seen the evidence he needed.

“Draco, I-” Harry started to say, but Draco cut him off, fury flowing through his veins. Suspecting was one thing, but seeing made it all too real.

“You fucking lied to me, Harry!” Draco shouted, shrugging Harry away and grabbing the plastic bag from the drawer.

Harry instantly reached for it, but Draco held it high above his head, grateful for his slight height advantage. 

“Give me it,” Harry said darkly, all of a sudden calm. When Harry got quiet during an argument, it was normally the eye of the storm, followed by a far worse shouting fit.

“No,” Draco stated simply, stepping back as Harry jumped for the bag. “You were clean, Harry. You went a whole month without using.”

“I’m fucking weak, ok!” Harry shouted loudly, making Draco wince. “I thought the potions were helping, but you said they didn’t count. What else am I meant to fucking do? I can’t do it on my own, and I was stressing out. You left, and I needed you.”

“Don’t put this on me,” Draco cut in, his calm voice not betraying the storm that was brewing inside of him. “You didn’t have to use again. I told you that we could wean you off potions; _you_ took it the wrong way.”

Sweat was starting to bead on Harry’s forehead and his jaw was visibly tensed. He was beginning to shake, and his pupils were now so dilated that the emerald green rim was barely visible. Draco knew the drugs were beginning to kick in, and he wouldn’t have long until Harry’s attention was taken away. Still, Draco felt a twisted sort of satisfaction that Harry was having a bad reaction to the drugs this time. 

“I,” Draco started to say, not sure he wanted to finish his sentence. But he had to say what was on his mind, and let Harry know that Draco wouldn’t stand for it. He had long ago sworn to Harry what would happen if he used again, and he knew Harry remembered those rules - if Draco didn’t uphold them, then Harry would take advantage. “I want you to leave. It’s over; _we’re_ over.”

Draco felt sick as Harry’s face fell, looking very much as though he had just had his heart broken.

“But, Draco-”

“You used again, Harry,” Draco said quickly, because he knew he would relent if he let Harry speak; he daren’t even look at Harry anymore because it would make him break down. “You knew what would happen if you did. You should have called me.”

“But-” Harry started to protest again.

“Go!” Draco screamed, and he did the one thing he knew would make Harry leave - he opened the window with a flick of his wand and threw the bag of drugs out.

Harry’s eyes widened, and then he was sprinting out of the bedroom door. A few seconds later Draco heard the front door bang open and then slam shut.

Draco sank to the floor, clutching his chest. Tears welled in his eyes and he shut them to try and stop the tears from falling. 

Regret washed over him as he remembered the heartbroken look on Harry’s face before he had fled. Draco shouldn’t have kicked Harry out like that, especially while he was high. Anything could happen to him, and it would be all Draco’s fault.

Had he overreacted? Perhaps, but he had been angry and upset that Harry had given in. Harry had been clean for a month, and the little argument they’d had earlier that day shouldn’t have been enough to make Harry relapse.

_Relapse_. That was what had happened. Addicts relapsed - it happened to a lot of people in recovery, and they said it was nothing to be ashamed of. 

A tear made its way down Draco’s face. He shouldn’t have kicked Harry out - or he should have at least thought about it first, rather than allowing his emotions to take over. He never listened to his emotions - he was quite adept at locking them out - but he could never control himself where Harry was concerned.

Almost on autopilot, Draco jumped to his feet and followed the path Harry had taken. He ran down the hallway and down the stairs, out of the front door to the building and round to the alleyway by the side of the flats.

He only stopped when he reached the spot beneath Harry’s bedroom window. 

The bag of drugs wasn’t there, and neither was Harry.

It was in that moment that Draco realised he was in love Harry, but it was too late. Harry was gone. 

_Two Months Earlier_

“The Solus Ward has been quarantined for Vanishing Sickness,” Healer Smythe said. “There’s four patients with it now.”

“I’ll get the potioneers to make a batch of the cure up,” Healer Pathak replied. 

Draco looked up at that. Having inherited all of Severus Snape’s research and writing, he knew that replacing dandelion root with peppermint increased the effectiveness of the cure.

“I have some information that may help with that,” Draco stated. He wasn’t a potioneer but he would love to be one, so perhaps forcing his way in there would help him get the position. 

The Healers turned to look at him in surprise when he spoke, disgust marring their features.

“I doubt that,” Pathak said scathingly, dropping his gaze down to Draco’s arm. His sleeve was long and covered his skin, but everyone knew that the Dark Mark was there. 

A potion vial fell to the floor, smashing and spilling bubbling green liquid across the tiles. Draco swore that he saw Smythe move it.

“Clean that up,” Smythe spat, gesturing with his fingers for Pathak to follow him from the room. “And if you eavesdrop again I’ll report you to your supervisor.”

Draco pulled a face as soon as the Healers had left the room, waving his wand to send the mop to clean up the spillage.

If anybody had told Draco that one day he’d be working as a janitor at St Mungo’s - and be a hated one, at that - he would have laughed in their face. How things had ended up so differently.

Draco and his mother had been lucky to avoid Azkaban, but sometimes Draco thought that life would be much simpler in prison, like it was for his father. Although Draco wasn’t outright banned from anything, the Dark Mark on his arm prohibited him from doing a lot of things.

He couldn’t walk down Diagon Alley without being spat at or called names. He couldn’t buy anything because all of the Malfoy family funds were taken by the Ministry in order to make reparations. He couldn’t find a job because nobody would hire an ex-Death Eater.

In the end, as Draco was unemployed and broke, he was forced to turn to the Ministry’s ‘support scheme’. 

The support scheme wasn’t intended to actually support people like Draco, but rather to take advantage of them to benefit the Ministry’s needs. They were forced into jobs that needed to be done but that no-one else wanted, and the pay was just enough to scrape by. Accommodation was provided, but Draco’s flat was so dark and dingy that it wasn’t much of a home. 

Draco looked up as the door to the staff room opened, and in walked receptionist Sue Li and the gift shop clerk Lavender Brown. They didn’t even spare Draco a glance as they strode into the room giggling, and sat down on the worn sofa by the coffee table. 

“Did you hear Harry Potter’s been admitted? Rumour has it he drank himself into a coma.” Li murmured to Brown in a hushed tone, though Draco could clearly hear every word. 

Brown nodded enthusiastically. “I knew it would only be a matter of time,” she said cautiously, as though she was telling Li a great secret. “He was always a bit of a wreck at school.”

Their conversation turned to the latest advice that Witch Weekly recommended for dealing with stress, so Draco tuned their voices out. Instead, his mind whirred with thoughts of Potter.

He had kept track of Potter after the war, until suddenly there was no news to keep track of anymore. 

To begin with, Potter had started a relationship with the Weasley girl and started Auror training, and everything in his life seemed perfect. Then, in the new year after the end of the war, Potter broke up with his girlfriend and quit the Aurors - the newspapers blamed Ginny, much to Potter’s disgust.

Life turned quite wild for Potter after that, and he was frequently seen drunk in bars, stumbling out of nightclubs in the early hours of the morning. The press were on him every night, and eventually Potter snapped and screamed at the photographers and reporters who - of course - inwardly squealed with delight as they got dirt for their next article. They wouldn’t leave Potter alone, and Draco could understand how it might drive Potter insane. 

Potter started spending more and more of his time in the Muggle world where the press couldn’t stalk him, and several months later reports started coming in suggesting that Potter’s family funds were running dangerously low, and his friends were trying to get Potter into rehab. It was rumoured that Potter was suffering terribly with alcoholism, but didn’t seem to want to get any help.

Nearly two years had passed since then, and the last thing Draco had heard was that Potter hadn’t attended Weasley and Granger’s wedding four months ago, and Weasley had issued a statement saying that Potter didn’t matter to him anymore. Draco could tell Weasley was lying though; he had looked utterly heartbroken at the thought of his best friend missing such an important event. It was pretty pathetic really. 

Still, Potter hadn’t actually been seen in the magical world for a long time now, and the press had moved on to stalking his friends for Potter gossip, though that seemed to be in short supply. 

So the fact that Potter had been admitted to St Mungo’s was very interesting to Draco. There was just something about Potter that had always intrigued him, and, loathe as he was to admit it, he had always wanted Potter to notice him. It was why he had always fought so hard with him, arguing over silly little things just to catch Potter’s attention. It probably hadn’t helped that Draco had had the very slightest little crush on Potter during their school years, which Draco was totally over now - wanking to thoughts of Potter didn’t count, or so he kept telling himself.

Draco couldn’t shake his curiosity off for the rest of his shift, and so kept an ear open for any mention of Potter’s name by the staff.

Naturally, most staff were more careful with confidentiality than Li and Brown, so Draco didn’t hear a thing. By the end of his shift he accepted that he wouldn’t find anything out the easy way, so he would ask Blaise - who worked in the administrative part of the hospital - to get him Potter’s files. It was disappointing though, as Draco hated waiting.

He was so wrapped up in his thoughts that he wasn’t paying attention when someone ran round the corner at high speed - directly into Draco. The collision sent them both to the floor, and Draco scowled as he pushed the person atop of him aside and jumped to his feet.

The person on the floor seemed a bit dazed, and it was that which allowed Draco the time to look at the person and realise it was Potter.

Draco’s heart skipped a beat as he took in the sight of Harry Potter on the floor.

Potter looked - for lack of a better word - terrible. He had always been skinny, but now Potter looked bony and gaunt, with his cheeks sunken into his face. His usually messy hair was now even wilder and as long as his shoulders, and Draco was curious to note that Potter wasn’t wearing his glasses. More odd was Potter’s scar, which was barely visible under angry red skin that looked like Potter had been clawing at. In fact, there were several marks on his face which looked like that, though the one about his scar was the most prominent.

Knowing that he had been granted a one-time opportunity, Draco drew his wand and had Potter against a wall when the man finally got his bearings together and scrambled to his feet.

Potter looked around wildly before his eyes landed on Draco, and they narrowed in anger.

“Get off me, Malfoy,” Potter hissed, struggling as Draco pinned him against the wall. A quick Stinging Jinx stopped Potter momentarily, but Potter really seemed to want to get away.

An idea began forming in Draco’s head. It was pretty obvious that Potter was trying to escape the hospital despite looking like he was in great need of hospitalisation. If _he_ gave Potter the treatment he needed, which could be something as simple as weaning him off alcohol, he would get in the Wizarding World’s good books, which could potentially lead to a career in Healing or Potioneering. 

All he had to do was get Potter to agree.

“I’m afraid I can’t let you go, Potter,” Draco said matter-of-factly, pressing down on Potter’s chest with extra force as the other man struggled harder. “I do believe that you’re trying to run away from hospital despite your admission, and I can’t in good conscience let that happen.”

Potter finally slumped in defeat, though Draco didn’t dare let his guard down. “You don’t have a conscience,” Potter argued, glaring at Draco with a dark look. Draco just smirked.

“No, but I took an oath,” Draco said. It wasn’t exactly a lie - Draco _had_ taken an oath to say that he would work hard and repay his community for his actions in the war - but if it sounded like Draco was implying a Healer’s Oath, that couldn’t be helped. “I’m going to have to report you back to your Healer.”

“Please, Malfoy,” Potter tried, dropping his head forwards. “Just let me go. There’s nothing wrong with me; I just, er, drank a bit too much. There’s nothing any Healer can do for me.”

“You want me to just let you walk out of this hospital?” Draco raised an eyebrow as Potter nodded. “There would only be one circumstance in which I can allow that to happen.”

Potter rolled his eyes. “What do you want? Money? Blackmail material? A blowjob?”

Draco spluttered at the last option. While a blowjob was a tempting offer, it wouldn’t provide Draco with much in the long run. “No, ah, while a blowjob would be nice, that wasn’t what I was implying. _I_ am in Healer training, and I could offer you private healthcare at my residence.”

Potter blinked, and Draco was suddenly aware of how green his eyes actually were. They reminded Draco of the Killing Curse, he noted with a shudder.

“So you want money?” Potter said finally. “Fine, whatever, I can have it you to in a couple of days.”

“Money doesn’t matter to me,” Draco lied. “However, I am currently indebted to you because you saved my life that one time.”

“Twice,” Potter corrected, and the corners of his mouth twitched in a semi-smile.

“Yes, well, I would like to clear that debt under _my_ terms.” It was selfish and conceited enough that it sounded believable coming from him, and perhaps that was the reason why Potter nodded.

“Beats the hospital, I guess,” Potter said with a shrug. “There’s nothing you can do for me anyway - you’ll be letting me go after an hour.”

“Maybe.” Draco looked Potter up and down, and was very sure that Potter wouldn’t be fit to leave after an hour. He wondered if perhaps Potter had an eating disorder, or if he had just lost the will to live and look after himself. At least fixing emotional problems wouldn’t require specialist knowledge that he might have needed had Potter had a physical issue. It shouldn’t be too hard to snap Potter out of his messed up thinking. “I’ve just finished my shift, so if you’re ready, let’s go.”

***

Draco expected Potter to look disgusted when he saw the flat, but instead he simply looked surprised.

“I wouldn’t expect you to be living in a place like this,” Potter said, looking about the flat curiously.

Having Potter see the pathetic excuse of the flat Draco lived in made him even more determined to make his new plan succeed.

The front room was small, and dark because the only natural light came from a single small window in the wall. A battered sofa with a hideous orange and brown pattern was in the centre of the room, and as Draco couldn’t afford a bookshelf, books were stacked high against three of the walls. A cupboard, stove, sink and counter were in the corner of the front room, and a tiny table with two mismatched chairs took up the rest of the space. Even the shack the Weasley family lived in would have been preferable to Draco’s flat.

“Healer training doesn’t pay as well as being fully qualified,”Draco said, not mentioning that the janitor pay made trainee Healers look like royalty. “Didn’t think you’d be picky over your living quarters.”

“Oh, I’m not,” Potter said quickly, fixing Draco with an odd smile. “This is a luxury compared to what I’m used to.”

Draco nodded slowly, trying to figure out if Potter was mocking him. Potter looked genuine though, so Draco let the topic slide. 

“I’ll show you to your bedroom.” Draco waved Potter over to the door leading to the spare room.

The bedroom was a mirror image of Draco’s; small and bare. There was just enough room for a single bed and a set of drawers opposite it, with a tiny space in between. 

Draco was suddenly aware that Potter didn’t have any belongings on him.

“Er, there’s some clothes in the drawers if you need any,” Draco said, pointing at them. “We’re roughly the same size so they should fit beyond being a little long in the legs.”

“Thanks,” Potter smiled, sitting down on the edge of the bed and bouncing on it gently to test the firmness. “I’m beat, do you mind if I have a sleep?”

“Go ahead,” Draco responded dismissively. It would save having to make awkward conversation, and it wasn’t like Draco had a clue what was going on with Potter until he had his file anyway. 

He wrote Blaise a quick note, explaining what was going on and asking for Potter’s file as soon as possible, and put the kettle onto boil. He had just settled on the sofa when a loud, blaring siren filled the flat.

Draco jumped to his feet, running to Potter’s room where he could see a flashing red light from the gap under the door.

He slammed the door open and his eyes widened at the sight. The bedroom window was wide open, and Potter was sat astride the windowsill, hunched over with his hands covering his ears. Draco had Intruder Alarm charms on all of his windows, and thank goodness he did.

“Get back in here, now!” Draco hissed, striding over to Potter and pulling him off the windowsill. He fell to the floor with a light thud, glaring up at Draco as he slammed the window shut. The glass shook in its frame, but the flashing lights and siren died off instantly. “What the hell are you doing?”

Draco had been so preoccupied worrying that Potter wouldn’t believe his lies, that he hadn’t stopped to think that Potter might be lying to him in order to escape the hospital. If Draco hadn’t been pissed off, he would have been impressed at the effort.

“I was just going out,” Potter grumbled, getting to his feet. “I’d have come back.”

“No you wouldn’t have,” Draco pointed out, and Potter inclined his head in agreement.

“Well how do I know you aren’t just going to sell me out to the Prophet?” Potter argued, looking at the window hopefully. “I should let you know that the last time I saw Rita Skeeter I threatened to put her in a jar again and throw it off a cliff.”

“Put her in a jar _again_?” Draco repeated faintly, not quite sure he had heard that correctly.

Potter shrugged and mumbled something that sounded like, “Hermione.”

Draco shook his head. “Ok, look; I’m not going to sell you out to the Prophet, or any other news outlet. I actually want to help you, and I’ve already told you my selfish reasons for wanting to do so. How about we make a vow?”

Potter eyed him suspiciously. “What’s in it for me? There’s nothing wrong with me for you to help with.”

Draco pinched the bridge of his nose. Potter was so infuriating sometimes; how could anyone be so stubborn? “Fine. If there’s nothing wrong, do the Vow anyway and then we’ll break it as soon as I get your file and confirm that you’re in perfect health.”

Potter looked wary for a moment before he held his arm and wand out. “Whatever. But I’m not your prisoner; I want to be able to go out when I want to.”

“You can go out when I say it’s ok, and you have to be back when I say,” Draco stated, and it was with reluctance that Potter nodded. 

They Vowed on that, with Draco adding that he wouldn’t betray Potter’s confidentiality unless in a life-or-death situation. 

“So can I go out now then?” Potter asked after they were done. “I need to let my friends know where I am, and I can get some of my stuff.”

“I suppose,” Draco said uncertainly. They had Vowed on it, so Potter had to come back afterwards; he had nothing to worry about. “Be back by eleven tonight.”

“Eleven?” Potter gasped. “The clubs don’t open until eleven!”

“The clubs? I thought you were just going to get some of your things.”

Potter looked sheepish. “I think I deserve a night of fun after the day I’ve had.”

Draco sighed and rolled his eyes; he was beginning to understand why Snape treated Potter the way he did. “One in the morning then, and that’s my final offer. I’m on an early shift tomorrow, so you can stay in until I get back in the afternoon.” 

Potter nodded, looking a lot more cheerful now that he was allowed out. He reminded Draco off a stray puppy. 

It was strange, really, the way Potter was now. Draco had never taken him as one to be out drinking every night, but he supposed Potter had a lot of demons to drink away. And considering Potter had no obvious injuries, he was sure the drinking must have had something to do with the hospitalisation.

After Potter left, Draco fixed himself a sandwich and sat down with a book. The only exciting part of his evening was when Blaise returned his owl with confirmation that he would get Potter’s file for him in the morning. 

Draco wasn’t aware that he had fallen asleep on the sofa until he was woken up very suddenly by a large thump and a groan.

“Fucking stubbed my toe,” Potter muttered from somewhere in the darkness.

Draco sat up instantly and cast a Lumos Maxima with his wand, bathing the small room in light.

Potter hissed and covered his eyes with his arm, stepping forwards and banging into the table again. 

Draco sighed, and then remembered he had told Potter he would be his private Healer, which meant he had to start acting like it. He would get Potter into bed, confirm his suspicions with Potter’s file in the morning, and then he’d sort something out from there. It would be hard work, but once Potter was sober Draco could parade him to the Wizarding World and finally get the respect he deserved.

“Draco!” Potter exclaimed when he pulled his arm away from his eyes. “It’s so lovely to see you; can I have a hug?”

Draco was confident he had misheard, but then Potter was upon him all of a sudden, wrapping his arms around Draco tightly. 

“Your hair smells nice,” Potter murmured into Draco’s neck. Draco could hear Potter’s teeth grinding whenever he wasn’t talking. “It’s so pretty, your hair. It’s so white; you look like an angel.”

“Alright,” Draco muttered, feeling quite confused. He pushed Potter back, frowning when he saw that Potter’s pupils had dilated massively, hiding most of the green iris from view. Surely that wasn’t normal? “Let’s, er, get you to bed.”

Draco didn’t have a great amount of experience and knowledge about being intoxicated, but Potter wasn’t acting like how Draco knew drunk people to be. Potter seemed like he was at peace with himself and in love with the world, quite happily allowing Draco to lead him by the hand to his bedroom.

“Can you stay with me?” Potter asked in a child-like tone as Draco deposited him on the bed. “Your hair is like a golden light.”

“I have no idea what you’re on about,”Draco answered matter-of-factly. “I have to be up in a few hours, so go to sleep and leave me alone until then.”

Potter’s mouth made an ‘o’ shape. “I’m so sorry,” he whispered, looking as though he had just heard the world was ending and it was his fault.

“It’s fine.” Draco waved his hand, and Potter’s eyes followed the movement. “Just get some sleep.”

Potter dropped back on his bed, still fully clothed, but Draco had no intention of assisting Potter with any personal needs. 

As Draco opened the door to leave the room, Potter started giggling, holding his hand over his face and wriggling his fingers.

Yes, something just wasn’t adding up, and Draco intended on finding out why.

***

Draco knew from Blaise’s grim expression that something was very wrong.

Admittedly, Blaise always had a grim expression, but Draco had been able to learn the difference between general distaste for the world and there actually being something wrong. 

“What’s the matter?” he asked as Blaise wordlessly handed him Potter’s files.

As Blaise had been more neutral in the war, he had managed to get himself a nice, low-profile job in the Filing Department - though Draco still thought the position was suspiciously convenient. It was dreadfully boring, Blaise said, but he also had uninterrupted access to the files of any patient that he wanted. 

“Nothing that concerns me,” Blaise replied, his tone giving nothing away. “I do urge you, Draco, to reconsider this thing with Potter, though. It was a good idea but trust me; I’ve read his file and that fucker is beyond help.”

“Nobody is beyond help,” Draco repeated one of the hospital’s mantras. “Besides, a bit of difficulty will be good for my grand reveal. I can go on about how terrible Potter’s life was but how I managed to pull him back together regardless, even at the risk of damaging my own emotional well-being. You know our society loves a good rescue story.”

“They also love a good hero - not an ex-Death Eater parading as one,” Blaise pointed out. “Just listen to me, you dickhead, alright. Potter isn’t an alcoholic like the rumours say - he’s on drugs. Muggle drugs, at that, which are ten times worse than the potions our kind get hooked on. He was admitted because he overdosed on something called crystal methamphetamine, whatever the hell that is. You should let him go, Draco.”

Drugs? Draco didn’t know much about Muggle drugs, but he knew that they were bad. There had been a rise in drug addicts in the Wizarding World, but they were mainly Muggle-borns, and Draco didn’t give a shit about them. Still, Draco didn’t think it was hopeless, in fact, it could be even better than fixing Potter’s non-existent alcohol problem.

“I could raise awareness about drug addiction in the magical community,” Draco declared, ignoring Blaise pointedly as his friend rolled his eyes. “I’ll cure Potter and get him to agree to some publicity thing about drugs, painting us _both_ as heroes. They’ll be more likely to buy the story if Potter does it with me.”

Blaise considered Draco for a moment. “You’re so full of shit, Draco,” Blaise finally said. “But if you want to do this, then go ahead; I won’t stop you. Let me know if you need anything else.”

***

Draco took Potter’s file to a Muggle library and had a thorough study of it. Blaise had already told him the most important part - Potter had overdosed on methamphetamine - but his file also reported traces of Ecstasy in his system. 

Draco didn’t know what either of those drugs really were, and figured that he really ought to know if he had any hope of helping Potter.

Searching the library had proved more difficult than expected, and when he finally found the information he wanted it was in the form of a small paper pamphlet rather than a book. One of the librarians fixed Draco with a sympathetic gaze when she saw what he was looking at.

Crystal methamphetaine - or meth, being one of the more common names it was known by - sounded, quite frankly, terrifying. Apparently it made users feel alert and energetic, and more impulsive and daring, but had the downsides of paranoia, aggression, and possible heart attacks. Many meth users had sores and scratches on their face from hallucinating that they had insects under their skin. The pamphlet said that meth was highly addictive, and long term use could cause psychotic episodes and even brain damage. It was beyond Draco why anyone would want to use something so dangerous just for a period of good mood and energy. 

Ecstasy didn’t seem as bad compared to meth, but even that didn’t sound good. Ecstasy basically made the world seem brighter and more alive to users, and like meth it gave them energy. It could also make users more loving and affectionate, which could possibly lead to sexual assault if someone took advantage. The pamphlet stated that using ecstasy could lead to depression and anxiety. It was a cycle, Draco noted; the user would take drugs to feel happy, then on the comedown they would feel worse and more depressed than before, pushing them to use again.

Draco also took note of the warning signs of drug usage - being high, the pamphlet called it; dilated pupils, being chatty and maybe not making much sense, a lack of focus, and mood swings from one extreme to the other.

He was feeling confident with his findings, but his good mood faded as soon as he returned home.

Potter was on the sofa, getting very roughly fucked by a man who looked old enough to be his father.

Draco was transfixed for a moment, watching the way the stranger’s cock slid in and out of Potter’s lovely arse, but then he shook his head and snapped into action.

Potter was humming a tune, his head lolled back and his eyes not really focusing on anything, and he hardly moved when Draco cast a spell at the man to knock him off Harry and onto the floor.

“What the fuck?” the stranger hissed, struggling to stand up again on wobbly legs.

“Oh, hello, Draco,” Potter said, seeing Draco for the first time. Potter’s pupils were wide, and combined with his lack of attention, Draco knew that he must have been using drugs - he couldn’t not be, because how else could he stomach being fucked by that creep?

“Hello, Draco,” the man greeted, smiling at him with a mouth that was missing several teeth. His cheeks were even more gaunt and hollowed than Potter’s, and his face was yellowing and covered in sores. He held out a hand to Draco; Draco just looked at it with a glare.

“Aren’t you going to put your cock away?” Draco said coldly, looking down at the man’s still hard cock. He sneered as he looked back up, and the stranger grinned sheepishly as he tucked himself back into his trousers. Out of the corner of his eye, Draco could see Harry doing the same thing while he stared up at the ceiling with a smile on his face. 

“Real nice place you got here,” the man continued, looking around with an impressed expression. 

“Shame you’re not going to see it for much longer,” Draco retorted sharply. “Now get out - now!”

“Sure, sure,” the man muttered under his breath. “Stupid rich ponce; never good enough, am I?”

“No, you’re not,” Draco agreed, ushering the man out with his hands without actually touching him. “Now goodbye.” And with that he slammed the door in the stranger’s face.

Draco turned to Potter, who was still on the sofa humming. “Had fun this afternoon, did we?”

“Hmm?” Potter turned to face him, blinking slowly as he tried to focus on Draco. “Oh, with Eddie? He’s nice, we should invite him round for dinner.”

“What a brilliant idea, Potter,” Draco said, his voice dripping in sarcasm so that even a high Potter could understand it. “And how about afterwards we have a threesome? He looks like a right sex god.”

“Don’t be mean, he’s my friend,” Potter murmured, rolling off the sofa and onto the floor; Draco didn’t think he had meant to do that. “Besides,” Potter continued as he pushed himself up off the floor and sat normally on the sofa, “I don’t have any money left so what am I supposed to do?”

Draco stared. “Are you a fucking _whore_? Are you really that broke that you’ve had to resort to becoming a _rentboy_?” Draco had sworn he would never resort to that line of work because he couldn’t stomach the thought of the clients. He’d much rather work in the Muggle world.

“What? Oh, no, he doesn’t give me money,” Potter replied, laughing despite the fact he had said nothing funny. Merlin, surely it should have been obvious to Draco the night before that Potter was out of his head, far more than alcohol could have caused. “Eddie says I’m his favourite; he looks after me.”

“It really looked like it,” Draco muttered. He wondered just what had driven Potter to his… _lifestyle_. Drugs and crappy looking sex with weird men didn’t seem very appealing to Draco. “I know about the drugs, Potter.”

“Didn’t you before?” Potter asked innocently. 

“Well, yes,” Draco lied. “But I was giving you chance to settle in. You said you thought you’d be free to leave here as soon as I had your file, but your file _and_ your actions have proven you’re in no fit state to leave.”

Potter shrugged and flopped to his side, holding his arms over the arm of the sofa. “Do you want to fuck? I’m still horny.”

Draco sighed. “No, Potter, I don’t. I don’t think your boyfriend Eddie would be very happy if we did that.”

Potter laughed again, sitting back up and leaning forwards with his elbows on his knees. “He’s not my boyfriend, Draco,” Potter said, rolling out the ‘r’ in Draco’s name. “I’m his _boy_ , but not his boyfriend. If you won’t fuck me can I go out and find someone who will?”

Draco hesitated for a moment before nodding. Potter was high anyway so it wasn’t like going out would make that any worse, and it would give Draco a chance for a bit of quiet and privacy. It looked like he would seriously be lacking it soon. 

***

Draco lifted up his mattress, and found the underneath of it bare.

He frowned, slipping his hand under the mattress and feeling around, but the surface was smooth.

Feeling panic rise up inside of him, he dropped to the floor and looked underneath his bed, shoving books aside and still finding nothing.

Draco drew his wand. “Accio money,” he cast; all he got was a single Knut. 

Draco wasn’t forgetful, and he knew that he had put some extra Galleons underneath his mattress a couple of days ago and hadn’t removed them since. Potter was the only other person in the flat.

Draco scowled in anger as he felt the tips of his ears burn. He worked hard for every coin he earned, and those coins were in short supply. Anything extra that his mother could afford to send him got hidden - it couldn’t be paid into Gringotts in case the Ministry decided to seize it - and spent on something nice. He didn’t get enough to warrant saving for something nice, so instead he’d buy himself a bun from the Muggle bakery down the street, or some nice bath salts to relax in on a night.

Draco had heard Potter had wasted all of his fortune - on fucking drugs of all things - and as he was desperate for more, he would probably use any means to pay for them.

He stormed out of his room and to Potter’s, stomping his feet to let Potter know he was angry. He pushed the door open so hard that it banged against the wall, but Potter, who was curled up on the bed, didn’t look up.

All Draco’s rage seemed to dissipate instantly as he realised that Potter was crying. He was rocking back and forth, his entire body visibly trembling.

“Was stealing my money worth this?” Draco asked, but his voice was calm. His anger had turned to pity instead, and Draco knew that Potter would rather have the anger. 

Potter didn’t answer him, but he did look up as though he had just realised that Draco was there.

“Come on, Potter, calm down,” Draco said gently, sitting down on the edge of the bed in front of Potter, who instantly flinched back.

“Don’t hurt me,” Potter muttered, burying his face into his arms.

“I’m not going to hurt you,” Draco murmured. “I mean, I should after you stole from me but…”

“I’m sorry,” Potter said into his shaky arms. “I needed to...I still need...go away.”

“I can’t go away, Potter, not when you’re like this,” Draco sighed. He wasn’t very patient, although he knew he needed to be if he wanted this to work. “Just take deep breaths.”

“No!” Potter shouted, raising his head to glare at Draco. Potter’s eyes were red from crying, but the pupils were a regular size. If he hadn’t used yet, he was most likely desperate to. “Get away from me.”

“So you can get your stash out?” Draco raised an eyebrow.

Potter surged forwards suddenly, hands out and pushing at Draco, who had to jump off the bed to avoid falling off. Potter was left on all fours, looking like nothing less than a wild animal.

Draco couldn’t handle that. If Potter wanted to get high, then he could go right ahead. Draco wasn’t prepared yet, and he wasn’t in the mood to confront Potter - he may not be as angry anymore, but his anger still lingered beneath his skin. They could both sleep on it and sort the situation out in the morning when Potter was less deranged. 

Draco took one last look at Potter’s gaunt, needy looking face.

“If you need me,” he said, opening the door and stepping out, “I’ll be in my room.”

***

Draco had thought that that would be the end of it, but he was sadly mistaken.

He had been asleep for a good couple of hours when he was woken up by somebody crawling across his bed. 

Draco had his hand under his pillow in a flash, grabbing his wand and leaping towards his assailant, knocking them down and stabbing his wand into their neck. Potter blinked up at him blearily; his pupils were dilated. Well, Draco had left Potter to get high, so he supposed he deserved being woken up. 

Potter squirmed beneath him, but Draco didn’t let him free.

“What are you doing in here?” Draco snarled, pressing his wand harder into Potter’s neck.

Despite his squirming, Potter seemed quite content and relaxed looking underneath Draco, though perhaps that was the drug’s doing.

“You said to come in if I needed you,” Potter explained, throwing his hands back to rest either side of his head. “I want to fuck.”

Draco was very certain he had misheard, until Potter said it again.

“I’d like you to fuck me,” Potter repeated. “Or I can fuck you if you want. I don’t mind, but my friends always used to fuck me because they said I was made for it.”

All Draco managed to say was, “what?” 

While Potter had propositioned him before - while high - this was the first time it actually sounded important to Potter. 

His mind was whirring suddenly, and it didn’t help having Potter beneath him. He moved off Potter which was a mistake, because Potter came after him and settled into his lap, throwing his arms around Draco and holding him tightly. 

Draco found himself growing hard, which wasn’t helped by the way Potter was writhing around on top of him. But while Draco could admit that yes, despite being a bit rough looking, Potter was very attractive and on any other occasion he would have accepted Potter’s offer of casual sex, the fact remained that Potter was clearly high and not in the right frame of mind to consent to anything. 

“Get off me, Harry,” Draco said slowly and carefully, and his use of Potter’s first name caught Potter’s attention. 

“Don’t you want me?” Potter asked with a pout, and Draco could have easily kissed him. But for all the bad things Draco had done in his life, he wasn’t going to take advantage of somebody in Potter’s position - it just wasn’t right.

And now that Draco thought about it, Potter had mentioned that his ‘friends’ had fucked him a lot, and he presumed that Potter meant while high. It made Draco ill to think about a group of creepy men giving Potter drugs and fucking him while he was out of his mind.

With that image, Draco shoved Potter off in disgust. 

But it wasn’t enough to just push Potter aside when he was high, or give up on Potter whenever he was a bit too emotional. Draco had chosen to help Potter because he wanted to move back up in society, but unless he actually started to _help_ Potter, then that would never happen.

“Harry, you are out of your mind,” Draco said bluntly, pulling back his covers and returning to bed. “I’m not going to fuck you - or be fucked by you - because you don’t know what you’re doing. The drugs have made you horny, and I’m the only one around to help with that.”

“I wanted you _before_ I got high, Draco,” Potter murmured, crawling back up the bed and lying down, thankfully to the side of Draco. “You’re so lovely to look at; you’re like an angel.”

Draco was no angel, despite Potter repeatedly telling him so. “Oh wow, if you could hear yourself right now,” Draco muttered into his pillow, resisting the urge to roll his eyes. An idea sprang to his mind, and he Accio-ed a bottle of Sleeping Draught. “Take this and go to sleep.”

Potter didn’t hesitate before he took the potion vial and downed the liquid inside; he hadn’t even asked what it was. Potter was asleep almost instantly, sprawled atop of Draco’s covers. It was fortunate that he was so skinny - which reminded Draco that he really needed to make Potter eat - because the bed wasn’t big enough for two people. 

It had been a hell of a night, but at least it had given Draco the motivation he needed. In the morning he would set up a new, strict course of action for Potter, whether Potter liked it or not. 

***

Draco hadn’t slept well, and hadn’t even been able to toss and turn because Potter was taking up the rest of the room on his already small bed.

Still, it was in the early hours of the morning that Draco decided on his plan of action, and when it turned six he figured that he may as well make a start on it.

After clambering over Potter’s sleeping form, Draco had a quick bath and got changed, and then set to work.

He Accio-ed Potter’s drugs and sealed them in a plastic bag before hiding them in a secret compartment in the chest of drawers in Potter’s room. It was a risk to basically hide them in plain sight, but Draco cast a spell that should make Potter compulsively turn away from the bottom of the drawer if he ever got curious.

Draco’s final steps to take before he woke up Potter were to hide Potter’s wand, and lock the front door and windows; he had a feeling that Potter wasn’t going to like what Draco had to say, and he was preparing for a bad reaction.

Potter was still curled up fast asleep on Draco’s bed when he returned to his room. The potion Draco had given Potter was a strong one, but it wasn’t hard to break. A thorough shake had Potter awake, blinking up at him in confusion.

“Malfoy?” Potter mumbled, wincing as Draco grabbed his arm and pulled him off the bed. Potter was left with one arm clinging on to the bed, holding him off the floor, and he glared at Draco darkly. “What?” Potter muttered as he realised whose bedroom he was in. “Why am I-?”

“ _You_ ,” Draco hissed venomously, “are here because you came here in the night begging to fuck. You were high, of course, but that isn’t going to be a problem for me anymore.” Potter’s eyes widened unnaturally wide, and his expression switched rapidly between anger and confusion. “I have got rid of your drugs.”

Potter leapt at him with a snarl. Luckily Draco was prepared and sent Potter flying back onto the bed with a well aimed hex.

Potter wasn’t one to give up easily, though, and he charged at Draco again. Knowing that it was doubtful that Potter would give up, Draco cast the Body-Bind Curse on him. 

Potter fell to the floor with a thud. Draco crouched down over Potter’s prone form and leaned in close to him.

“I’ve had enough of you, Potter,” Draco said coldly; Potter glared back at him. “You being high doesn’t bother me much because, though irritating, you’re harmless. However I’ve read what those drugs can do to you, and seeing as I said I was going to help you, I think I better get round to that. Oh, and you _did_ steal money from me, so I’m going to make you suffer for that. So from now on, I am banning you from leaving this flat. You aren’t allowed any visitors, and I am not going to allow you any drugs. You are hereby _confined_ to this flat, and only when I deem you clean from addiction will I let you out again, and when that happens you will go with me to St Mungo’s and you will tell them what a great job I did at healing you, do you understand?”

Potter obviously couldn't nod, and Draco lifted the curse, pinning Potter down with his hands instead. Potter struggled against him but Draco was much stronger physically.

It was hard work, but Draco kept his power and eventually Potter slumped back, shutting his eyes. His body was trembling beneath Draco, and it took Draco a moment to realise that Potter had opened his eyes again. The green was vivid and bright, and Draco saw light there despite the dullness to them.

“Please, let me have the drugs,” Potter whispered, breathing heavily. His chest rose and fell slowly with each breath, and Draco watched, mesmerised. “I swear I’ll stay here, but let me have the drugs. I need them to take the pain away. I see _them_ every time I close my eyes; don’t make me live with that.”

Draco fell back from Potter, sitting on the floor with his knees pulled up. Potter didn’t move, and it truly was a sign of defeat. 

Draco could have never imagined that his life would come to this. Hearing Harry Potter, the hero of the Wizarding World, admit aloud that his psyche had broken and implying that death was preferable to living with the pain was something quite overwhelming. If the hero could break, then what hope was there for the rest of them?

“No, Potter,” Draco heard himself saying. “You can beat this.”

Potter moved then, jumping up and sprinting past Draco. Draco heard Potter’s bedroom door slam, followed by bangs and clatters. Potter was no doubt searching for his stash, but Draco trusted his charm to stay in place and hide them.

Draco got to his feet and followed Potter’s path, locking the door to keep Potter inside. Potter was angry, and Draco didn’t want to be on the wrong side of that. 

Potter seemed to realise that his door was locked, because he started to shake the handle more and more violently as the door wouldn’t budge.

“Open the door!” Potter shouted, followed by something that sounded like the door being kicked. “Malfoy, let me out!”

“This is for your own good, Potter,” Malfoy shouted back, and it was the last thing he said for a long time. 

He slid his back down the door, throwing his head back against the wood.

The banging got louder, thumping Draco’s head each time. But over the noise of the bangs, Draco could hear the unmistakable sound of crying.

“Malfoy, please!” Potter sobbed. Draco ignored him, even as tears prickled at his own eyes. “Don’t make me live like this! Please!”

Draco shut his eyes as the tears began to stream down his face. And as he listened to Potter’s own sorrow, Draco really hoped that what he was doing was worth it. Saving Potter’s life to save his own should have never been so difficult. 

***

Potter slept for most of the next four days. Draco hardly saw him, apart from the times Potter would storm into the kitchen and cram as much bread as he could manage into his mouth before returning to bed. 

After those days passed, Draco began to wish that Potter would go back to sleeping. The physical toll seemed to be a lot lesser than the psychological withdrawal that Potter was going through. 

Draco often found himself accosted by Potter whenever he returned from work. Usually Potter was angry and confused, and almost desperate to get his hands on his drug stash. He had turned over Draco’s flat at least three times but had yet to find them. Draco was thankful that his spells were still in tact.

Even worse than the anger was the depression. Draco didn’t think anything could top being screamed at, but seeing Potter crying and looking so very lost made Draco feel very uncomfortable. Most people had looked to Potter as a hero after the war, Draco included, and seeing him so fucked up just didn’t seem right.

Draco even went back to the Muggle library to find out more about drug withdrawal. It was the most work he had ever done for anyone other than himself, but he knew he had to do it. Potter was clearly suffering, and Draco had to help him anyway he could. He told himself it was purely so that he could have proof to back up his claims that he had helped Potter with addiction, but there was a part deeper within himself that was doing it for Potter. 

Seeing Potter at his worst had made Draco feel like he knew the _real_ Potter now. It was a side of Potter that he hid from the world, even when the world was hunting him down to try and expose his inner secrets to people who couldn’t give a damn about him. Potter didn’t have the focus or energy to argue or fight with Draco like they used to, which had got rid of that barrier between them.

Draco still didn’t _know_ Potter, but he knew the human side to him.

The pamphlets Draco consulted weren’t that helpful, in that they only said how to help with the symptoms rather than stop them. Basically, Potter had to wait it out, but Draco could help by making sure that Potter was relaxed and felt safe, ate properly, and drank plenty of water. 

It took time, and patience that Draco didn’t know he possessed, but Potter slowly started to respond to Draco. As his emotions began to settle, though the depression still lingered, Potter was getting less aggressive, and smiled each time Draco gave him another glass of water or ran him a bath.

Draco ignored the way his stomach would flip over each time Potter smiled. And as much as he tried to tell himself that he was only helping Potter to better his own position in society, Draco wasn’t so sure anymore.

***

It was a long, difficult period, but Potter’s withdrawal symptoms finally started to ease. Potter hadn’t destroyed anything in the flat for nearly a fortnight, and though he was still underweight he wasn’t nearly as skeletal and gaunt as he had been. 

Draco had called in sick several times at work to keep an eye on Potter, and Potter seemed to appreciate that. He had taken to sitting with Draco on the sofa whenever Draco was home, not talking much but Draco began to like the company Potter offered him.

Draco had also made Potter promise to Floo-call him if he was ever at the flat alone and had a craving for drugs, and he’d come and sit with him until the craving passed. He’d told Potter that if he used again he’d be on his own, and Potter seemed to look panicked at the thought of being kicked out.

Not everything was good though; Potter still looked sad a lot of the time, and he had gone through Draco’s entire supply of Sleeping Potions and had requested some more. Draco had managed to - illegally - get a month’s worth of potions from an acquaintance of Blaise, but he wasn’t entirely comfortable with it. It felt like Potter was just getting addicted to something else, but then again, surely it was better for Potter to take Sleeping Potions once a night, rather than using dangerous Muggle drugs.

They were together on the sofa one night when Potter kissed him for the first time.

It was quick and unexpected, and Draco only really registered it had happened after Potter pulled back. He was still leaning in towards Draco, though, looking nervous as he awaited Draco’s reaction. 

Draco didn’t even think as he pulled Potter towards him and pressed their lips together once more. 

It wasn’t the best kiss that Draco had ever had, but it was his favourite. Potter’s lips were dry and cracked but they still belonged to _Potter._ All the feelings Draco had been repressing over the last month concerning Potter came flooding to the front of his mind, and Draco didn’t think he’d be able to push them down any more.

Draco wasn’t in love, but he wanted Potter and had done for a long time. So he didn’t push Potter’s hands away when his trembling fingers began to undo the buttons on Draco’s shirt. Potter wasn’t high, so if he wanted Draco now then it was because he actually did want him. There was nothing stopping them. 

“Do you want me?” Harry murmured against Draco’s lips, and Draco nodded eagerly. 

“So much,” he whispered back. His arms wrapped around Potter and pulled him closer, bringing their bodies flush against each other. 

“I,” Potter breathed, resting his forehead against Draco’s. Potter was trembling slightly, and Draco held him tighter. “I’ve slept around a lot; I don’t actually know how many people I’ve been with. None of them meant anything to me, though, but you - you do mean something. You’re the only one who’s treated me like a person and not a broken toy. And you stuck by me even when I treated you like shit.”

A wave of guilt washed over Draco momentarily. Potter still had no idea that Draco had lied about being in Healer training, or about his real intentions for helping him. “It was the drugs,” he muttered awkwardly instead. “It’s not your fault.”

“I chose to take them in the first place,” Potter shrugged. “But do I mean anything to you? I’m tired of being passed around to strangers who only want me for a fuck. Most of the time I was so off my head I didn’t even know what I was doing; I don’t want _us_ to be marred like that.”

It was on the tip of his tongue to tell Potter the truth, to tell him that his Healing training was non-existent, and that his main reason for helping him had been for Draco’s benefit rather than Potter’s. Instead he said, “you mean something to me,” and it was the truth. Draco wasn’t brave enough to confess his sins to Potter. 

“Then call me Harry,”Potter said before kissing Draco deeply once more. And how could Draco deny such a polite request?

They quickly shed their shirts, tossing them to the floor. Draco traced the ridges of Harry’s ribs - Merlin, he really needed to get Harry to eat more - while Harry clung onto Draco’s hips like his life depended on it. 

“How shall we…?” Draco began to ask, trailing off as his cheeks began to warm. He was no virgin by any means, but somehow sleeping with Harry seemed to feel more intimate than it had been with anyone else.

Harry hesitated for a moment. “Could I fuck you? I’ve never done it that way before; nobody would let me.”

“I’ll let you; I want you to do it,” Draco said, laying down and pulling Harry on top of him. A quick spell got rid of the rest of their clothes - manually doing it would have taken too long - and they both shivered as their naked forms rubbed against one another. Harry’s skin was cold to touch, and he hissed in pleasure as Draco’s no doubt warm hands moved across his body. 

Draco Summoned a jar of lubricant and pressed it into Harry’s hands.

Harry poured a generous amount on his fingers and moved his hand between their bodies, trailing down teasingly until they found their destination. One finger pushed into Draco, followed by another. 

“Go harder,” Draco hissed as Harry’s fingers hit the right spot inside him. “I can take it.”

With Draco’s encouragement, Harry began to finger Draco harder, teasing his prostate every time. 

“Can you cast a Protection Charm on us?” Harry said loudly; Draco hadn’t realised that he had been so spaced out. “I don’t know if those Muggles were safe and I don’t want-”

“It’s fine,” Draco said, and he cast the spell over them. His spell hiding Harry’s drug stash was still intact, so he trusted that the Protection Charm would work, too. “I’m ready, Harry; fuck me.”

Harry readjusted his position until his hard cock was pressing against Draco’s hole. Draco wrapped his legs around Harry’s waist as he started to push inside, bringing Harry even closer.

The sofa was lumpy and uncomfortable, and a bit too small for the both of them, and Harry’s sharp bones were digging into his skin, but Draco felt amazing. Having Harry _inside_ him was amazing.

They didn’t speak, and the only sounds in the room were of them panting and of skin hitting skin. Draco moaned loudly as Harry hit his prostate on nearly every thrust, driving him into a frenzy. The sex was frantic and desperate, and fucking brilliant, Draco thought. 

It didn’t take Draco long at all to come, and when he did it was with a cry of Harry’s name. Harry leaned down and kissed him hard before pulling out of Draco. His hardness pressed against Draco’s thigh, and Draco sent him a quizzical look.

“You haven’t come,” Draco stated plainly, as though Harry didn’t already know that.

“Oh, no, I can’t,” Harry answered simply, looking as though he was surprised Draco had noticed at all. “I thought maybe going on top might...but I’m ok; it usually goes away on its own after a while.”

“Why can’t you-?” Draco started to ask, but Harry cut him off before he could finish his question. Harry couldn’t meet Draco’s eyes, and he looked away sheepishly. 

“It started not long after I started using,” Harry muttered, folding his arms across his chest. “The men at the club would take this Muggle drug called Viagra to help them keep it up, but they wouldn’t let people like me have any. As long as they came, it didn’t matter what happened to me.”

Draco didn’t understand how Harry could talk about his drug use and old companions so casually. It was like he couldn’t even seen how he had been taken advantage of - or maybe the company he used to keep had made sure he wouldn’t see it like that.

“Well I’ve already told you I’m not like them,” Draco pointed out. “I could suck you off if you wanted?”

“It’s fine, it’ll take too long,” Harry answered quickly, still refusing to meet Draco’s eyes. “You should clean yourself up; you’ll get all sticky.”

Draco sighed, but charmed away the sticky seed that still lingered on his stomach. He took a deep breath before his next words, knowing that he shouldn’t really be saying them. “I could get you a potion from the hospital for erectile dysfunction. It should sort out your, ah, issue.”

Harry did look at him then, with a smile on his face that should have made Draco pleased but instead made his heart sink. 

“You could get me something like that?” Harry asked hopefully.

Draco should have shaken his head, and told Harry he’d be better off letting the problem fix itself in time. Instead he did the opposite and nodded. 

***

Despite Draco’s reservations about giving Harry more potions, Harry seemed a lot happier for it.

He was sleeping well at night, and slowly but steadily gaining weight to the point where he didn’t look like he would disappear if he turned sideways, anymore. 

When Draco wasn’t working, they tended to spend their time either fucking or smoking. Draco didn’t know where Harry had got the cigarettes from, but he had assured Draco that any damage caused to them by the cigarettes could be undone by magic, and eventually Draco had relented and joined in.

It was wrong, but Draco wanted to keep Harry happy, because as long as he was happy he didn’t seem to want to leave Draco. Admittedly, Draco hadn’t officially ‘released’ Harry yet, but Draco was sure that Harry would ask if he wanted to go. 

And the sex was good, too. With the potions, Harry’s physical issues went away, and fucking seemed to be a way for Harry to beat his drug cravings. They were very versatile, switching roles and positions constantly; Draco hadn’t been this randy since he was fourteen and began wanking for the first time. 

But despite the good sex and Harry being in a good mood, Draco couldn’t go a day without worrying about the potions Harry was using. 

Sex and cigarettes weren’t the most healthy of coping mechanisms, but as long as Harry stuck with Draco and didn’t go home with strangers, and as long as they had magic to heal them, sex and cigarettes weren’t doing Harry any harm. 

The potions, on the other hand, were a different story. Harry was clearly dependant on them - he had been going through his supplies so quickly that Draco was certain that he had been upping the recommended dosage. 

Blaise’s acquaintance was happy to get the potions for him, but Draco didn’t know how much they could take before they got caught. Draco didn’t trust Blaise’s acquaintance not to rat him out; in fact, Draco was almost certain that he would if it came to it.

So when Harry asked him for more Sleeping Potions just a week after his last supply, Draco lost it.

“Can’t you try sleeping without them for once?” Draco snapped. 

“No,” Harry replied, looking affronted at the question. “I’ll have nightmares without them; I can sleep through the night if I use them.”

“So you’re going to take Sleeping Potions for the rest of your life?” Draco retorted, folding his arms across his chest. “That doesn’t exactly seem healthy to me.”

“Does it matter?” Harry spread his arms wide. “I’ve been clean for a month, Draco. The potions help me keep off the cravings.”

“Are you clean, though?” Draco said before he could help himself. Harry’s eyes widened.

“Of course I fucking am!” Harry shouted, but Draco didn’t relent. He had started it, so he might as well finish it.

“From meth and Ecstasy, maybe,” Draco agreed. “But you’re just abusing potions now instead. And what about the cigarettes? Replacing drugs with other substances doesn’t exactly count.”

“I’m not replacing them,” Harry hissed, his eyes flashing darky. “I just-”

“I’m going to work,” Draco interrupted. He hated it when he and Harry argued, especially because normally it was to do with Harry’s old drug habits. “I’ll see you when I get back.”

Draco got home sooner than anticipated because Wilkerson wanted to swap shifts with him. He had been feeling guilty for what he had said to Harry, and intended to make it up to him. It wasn’t much, but he stopped off at the bakery down the street from his flat and got Harry his favourite - treacle tart.

Then he returned home and found out that Harry had used again.

_Present_

Draco ran from the alley and back into his flat to grab his wand, before Apparating to Blaise’s apartment. 

“Blaise!” he shouted when he arrived in Blaise’s apartment, which was far swankier than anything Blaise should have been able to afford. “Get in here! I am in love but now I’ve lost him!”

Blaise was nowhere in sight, but Draco could hear shuffling noises behind the bedroom door, and finally Blaise appeared dressed in nothing but a silk robe. He opened and shut his bedroom carefully to stop Draco seeing inside.

“Entertaining, Blaise?” Draco sneered, dropping his gaze down briefly to where Blaise’s robes were tented.

“Fuck off,” Blaise hissed. “Now who are you in love with and what did you do wrong?”

Merlin, what didn’t Draco do wrong? Even doing the right thing had ended up going wrong.

“I drove him away, and he probably won’t ever come back,” he declared, burying his face in his hands. “Merlin, he’s ill and I treated him like dirt because of it.”

“Draco,” Blaise said coldly, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Who the hell are we talking about? I have an idea, but I really hope I’m wrong because I fucking warned you not to go through with what you were planning.”

“You’re not wrong,” Draco said quietly. “I’m in love with Harry Potter.”

Saying it outloud should have set off organs playing in the background, or a Cupid’s Arrow to go flying overhead; instead, Blaise’s bedroom door swung open with a loud bang and Draco had a face full of Ginny Weasley.

“You’ve been in touch with Harry?” Weasley snarled, pushing against his chest hard. “Where the fuck is he?”

“Merlin, put some clothes on,” Draco hissed, throwing the girl back from him. 

She was dressed in nothing more than a lacy, pale pink, and very see-through negligee and knicker set. No wonder Blaise had been trying to hide his bedroom from view.

“My. Clothes. Don’t. Matter.” Weasley hit him in the chest after every word. “Where’s Harry now? Is he ok?”

And suddenly it didn’t matter to Draco that he was in his best friend’s apartment, being threatened by a Weasley in lingerie. Harry was the only thing that mattered.

“I don’t know,” Draco breathed, his voice breaking on the last word.

Weasley sighed and pulled Draco over to the sofa, pushing him down onto it and sitting down beside him. Blaise hovered awkwardly nearby for a moment before hurrying off to the kitchen. The clinking of glasses was too deliberate for Blaise to actually be getting them drinks.

“Tell me everything that happened,” Weasley ordered, and Draco did.

He told her about meeting Harry in the hospital, and Draco’s plan to get up in society. He told her about Harry’s drug habits, and his withdrawal, and everything that happened after. He told her about Harry’s relapse and Draco’s reaction to it, and throughout the story Weasley nodded understandingly.

“I would call you a dickhead for how you treated Harry earlier,” Weasley said, “but we’ve all been there at one point or another; it’s easy to lose patience with him. Look, Malfoy, I know what you’re going through. Me, Ron, Hermione...all of us tried so hard to help Harry, but he just shut us out. Hermione thought he did it on purpose, trying to make us hate him. I don’t know how he ended up an addict in the first place, but what I do know is that you helped him more than the rest of us could, even if your intentions _were_ selfish. I can tell that you care about him a lot, now.”

“What does it matter that I helped him, though?” Draco retorted, feeling sick to his stomach. He was craving a cigarette, and he just wanted to find Harry and kiss him until they suffocated. “He’s gone.”

Weasley bit her lip. “Hermione has the details for the club Harry goes to. I would imagine he’d be there.”

“Why don’t you go get him, then? He won’t come with me.” Why would he? Harry said Draco treated him better than anyone else did, but then Draco had ruined that. Yes, Draco had had a right to be angry at Harry relapsing, but he shouldn’t have taken out his anger on Harry.

“He refused every time one of us went down before,” Weasley explained, wringing her hands together. “If you got through to him before, you can do it again.”

Draco knew that he had to try.

***

The club was disgustingly seedy, with sticky floors, and walls that were peeling and in need of a good wash down. Music blared out of large plastic boxes that were mounted on the wall but didn’t look particularly sturdy. 

The patrons were dressed in revealing and tight-fitting clothes, and Draco was sure that most of them were high or very drunk. Draco wouldn’t be there if he didn’t have to be, and it was only the thought of Harry that kept him there. Still, Harry would have to make it up to him for pulling him into such a horrid place. 

Draco had dressed in Muggle jeans and a simple black t-shirt. He had caught the attention of the bouncers, presumably for not looking like a hot mess, but given the state of the rest of the club-goers, nobody else spared him a second glance. He was offered something called weed by a man who stank of something sweet and musty, but a sharp glare got rid of him quickly.

Draco was beginning to lose hope of ever spotting Harry in the mess of people, when the curtain to a private booth opened. That was when Draco saw him.

Harry was sat on the lap of a much older man, with his head lolled back on the man’s shoulder. Draco breathed in deeply as he caught sight of the way the man’s hands were roaming over Harry’s body, shoving Harry’s hands away whenever Harry tried to push the man’s hands back.

Draco scowled, and just as he was preparing to stealthily slip his wand out and send a very nasty hex at the man, a hand gripped his shoulder hard.

“I wouldn’t go looking at them like that, son,” the man said to Draco, steering him away with a strong pull despite Draco’s protest. He was rather average looking, despite his large frame. “Dale owns this place, and he wouldn’t want you glaring at him like that.”

“Maybe he should keep his filthy hands off my boyfriend, then,” Draco spat before he could help himself. The itch to curse the dirty Muggle was still strong, but the curtain was shut again now and two burly men stood outside it keeping guard.

The man who had pulled Draco back laughed bitterly. “I’d recommend you find yourself a new boyfriend, kid. Harry’s one of Dale’s boys.”

The term ‘boys’ rang a bell in Draco’s memory. He vaguely recalled Harry using the term way back when he had first moved in with Draco. 

The man continued when Draco said nothing. “Dale’s _boys_ are the kids that are running from something; Dale offers them an escape.”

“Drugs, you mean,” Draco supplied. The man nodded sharply.

“He gives them plenty, and once they’re hooked he starts charging them,” the man explained. “Some of them can pay for a while, but they all run out of cash eventually. Dale and his buddies accept _alternative_ methods of payment though, and the boys don’t really have a choice with who they have to spend the night with. Harry’s one of Dale’s favourites, though. Think it’s those pretty green eyes of his.”

“He does have nice eyes,” Draco agreed absently. “But that’s sick. If Dale isn’t careful he’s going to get himself killed.”

“Why do you think he has so many bodyguards?” the man smirked.

“Are you one of them?” Draco enquired. Despite the man’s size, he wasn’t intimidated by him; a large frame wasn’t anything against magic. 

The man laughed in response. “Hell, no! I hate that guy.”

“Why are you telling me all this, then?”

“Because, kid,” the man said, folding his arms across his chest, “you look like you could be a hero.”

***

The next time Draco went to the club, it was early morning. 

The bright light illuminated the dust in the cracks on the wall and the brightly coloured stains on the floor. There was still a fair amount of people in the club, though most seem to be slumped over on tables or sitting on the floor smoking. 

The curtains from the private booths were all wide open, but Harry was nowhere in sight, and nor was the man - Dale - who apparently ran the club.

Draco strode quickly over to the booths, stopping only when he felt a bony hand grip his arm.

“Got anything on you, mate?” the too-thin man asked him hopefully. “I’m dying for a fix.”

Draco turned his nose up instinctively, before a nagging voice in the back of his head reminded him that the stranger could have just as easily been Harry. This man had probably had a hard life that drove him to the state he was in now.

“Sorry, I don’t,” Draco answered, pressing on in an effort not to look at the disappointed and almost distraught look on the man’s face.

When Draco made it to the booth, it didn’t give away any indication that Harry had been there the night before. It was just as ratty looking as the rest of the club, with pieces torn out of the red seats, and with marks scratched into the table. Lingering flecks of white powder were stuck in some of the indents, and Draco was very certain that it was some form of drug.

“Draco?”

Draco spun around as a very familiar voice said his name, and he was immediately engulfed in a tight hug.

Harry finally released him and stepped back, a massive smile on his face. He was obviously high, and he didn’t seem able to stand still, shuffling his feet around and wriggling his fingers as he swung his arms back and forth. 

“Harry?” Draco said slowly, “Merlin, what have they given you now?”

“Nothing,” Harry argued quickly. “Just Speed, it’s nothing bad. Why are you here? I’ve missed you; can you stay a bit? Have you met Dale?”

Harry said all of that very fast, and Draco pinched the bridge of his nose. He didn’t anything about Speed, but it looked like it simply did what it was called. There was a lot he would _like_ to say to Harry now, but anything meaningful he said would most likely go over Harry’s head while he was like this. 

“Harry,” was all Draco said, his voice coming out as a low whine. “You have to stop this. Can’t you see what it’s doing to you?”

Harry ignored him. “Could you give me some money, please?” Harry clapped his hands together in front of him, his arms outstretched. “I’m all out.”

Draco let out a sharp bark of laughter; of all the things for Harry to ask! “No, of course not,” he snapped. “That’s a good thing.”

“But I don’t want to fuck anyone!” Harry protested angrily, and Draco’s insides went cold. “I only want _you_ now, but Dale doesn’t take no for an answer.”

Draco felt nauseous, and he could feel himself trembling. It was utterly heartbreaking to see the way Harry had been living all that time before his overdose, and it was made even worse to hear it coming from Harry who was too high to realise the implications of what he was saying.

It was no wonder that Harry was out of his head this early in the morning; the more they drugged Harry, the easier it would be for Dale and his cronies to take advantage of him.

Draco felt a very strong urge to grab Harry before setting the place on fire and hunting down Dale to rip his dick off. That wouldn’t achieve anything, though, apart from instant gratification, because Dale could just rebuild and continue his twisted ways elsewhere. Draco would have to get his revenge in a very carefully constructed manner to ensure maximum damage.

“Oi! What the fuck are you doing, blondie?” a gruff voice shouted suddenly, drawing Draco out of his fantasies of revenge.

“Stop, Shane; he’s my friend,” Harry shouted as two burly, bald men appeared at either side of Draco and grabbed his arms. Shane stood by Harry, clapping a hand on his shoulder.

“Get off me, scum,” Draco hissed, desperately reaching for his wand in his pocket, but the men were holding him too hard and preventing his movement.

“My boys are just gonna have a little chat with your friend, Harry,” Shane said in what Draco suspected was meant to be a reassuring voice. “Look what I’ve got here for you, kid. You take this, and then you can remind me how good you are at sucking cock.”

“I don’t wanna,” Harry whined weakly, but he was already reaching for the pill in Shane’s hand.

“You touch him and I will personally kill you,” Draco hissed, and the men holding him laughed as they dragged him away and to the alley behind the club.

They dropped him to the ground, and Draco was too slow reaching for his wand when the first kick landed on his stomach, knocking the wind out of him.”

“You stay away from here, you understand me, brat?” one of the men hissed, kicking him again.

Pain flared through his stomach and around his back, and all thoughts of grabbing his wand went out of his head as another kick landed on his shoulder. 

“If we see you again we won’t be so kind,” the other man snarled, leaning down and punching Draco hard in the face. 

Everything instantly became blurry as sharp pain shot through his face. 

As Draco’s consciousness began to fade, he managed a weak smile as he distantly heard Shane’s voice saying, “let’s get out of here; the little bitch bit me.”

***

“What the fuck, Draco?!”

Draco groaned from where he sat on the hospital gurney, legs dangling over the side of it.

“Can you keep it down, Blaise? My head is killing me,” Draco muttered as Blaise stormed into the hospital room, followed closely by Ginny Weasley. 

“Well whose fucking fault is that?” Blaise argued, throwing his hands in the air. “What were you thinking?”

After waking up alone in the dingy alley, Draco managed to Apparate to St Mungo’s. They had fixed his injuries with ease, though his head still pounded and his body ached. Still, the Healers had reassured him that the pain would ease in time - the pain-relieving potions were taking longer to kick in because of the extent of his injuries. Merlin, he could kill for a cigarette. 

“I was _trying_ to help Harry,” Draco said through gritted teeth. “And from what I briefly saw, I don’t think we can waste any time trying to get him out of there. Why couldn’t your brother and Granger get him out?”

That question was directed towards Weasley, and Draco instantly regretted it because her eyes blazed with anger and her glare forced him to look away from her.

“Don’t you think we tried?” she screeched. “He recognised us, even if we went in disguise, and he’d shout for those bodyguards to get rid of us. Ron tried kidnapping him once and Harry went berserk; he couldn’t recognise that Ron was trying to help him and thought he was there to hurt him. They didn’t want to risk damaging his mental health any further after that.”

“You didn’t see much of what went on then, did you? Otherwise you’d have tried harder,” Draco retorted, reminding himself that it wasn’t Weasley’s fault, or anyone else’s apart from Dale and his cronies. 

To Draco’s surprise, though, Weasley’s expression softened.

“What’s it like?” she asked quietly, and Draco felt sorry for her all of a sudden. He wasn’t the only one to care for Harry, even though he liked the idea that Harry only had him to depend on. His mother always said that he was too possessive. 

So Draco told her everything he had seen at the club, and how Harry had been and how he had acted. Weasley started to cry when Draco told her about the sexual assault Harry had suffered at the hands of his drug dealers, and Blaise wrapped an arm around her comfortingly; it was the most gentle gesture Draco had ever seen Blaise show.

“Sorry, I just need a minute,” Weasley muttered, shrugging Blaise’s arm away and running from the room.

“Is she still in love with him?” Draco asked as he stared at the door Weasley had just ran out of.

“She isn’t _in_ love with him, but she still loves him,” Blaise replied casually. “Not in a romantic way, but all of their little friendship group have this fucking weird brother and sister vibe going on. Hell knows our friends never gave much of a shit about each other.”

“Yet you came running down here as soon as you heard about me,” Draco pointed out, smirking when Blaise cleared his throat.

“That was Ginny’s idea,” Blaise said quickly. “But this thing with Potter, I mean, it’s pretty shit, isn’t it?”

“You could say that,” Draco agreed. “He’s so drugged up and high that he doesn’t even think they’re doing anything wrong. He doesn’t particularly like it, but he isn’t trying to get away either.”

“It’s fucking horrendous, really,” Blaise pressed on. “Those Muggles - what a bunch of cunts. Look at what they’ve done to you _and_ Potter. I really hope you have a plan to make them pay, Draco.”

“Of course I do!” Draco cried, throwing his hands in the air and wincing when it sent a fresh wave of pain through his body. “I could do with your help, actually. While we may not be able to use magic in _front_ of Muggles, there’s technically nothing that says we can’t intimidate them while a friend uses magic out of sight.”

“I don’t believe there is,” Blaise said with a wicked grin. “I don’t know if you know this, Draco, but I have a, ah, _speciality_ that helps me get what I want. It’s very illegal, though; in fact, it’s one of three very _unforgivable_ things.”

That made a lot of sense. Using the Imperius Curse would certainly explain how Blaise had a good job - that wasn’t good enough to attract attention - and have such a classy home. 

“If you’re going to hurt those bastards,” came a new voice; Weasley had rejoined the room at last, with black streaks under her eyes from smudged mascara being the only sign that she had been crying. “I want in.”

***

The next time Draco went to the club was for what he hoped would be the final time.

Weasley and Blaise were with him, and they were all Disillusioned. The clients in the club were probably too high or drunk to notice them anyway, but Draco didn’t think it would go well if Dale’s bodyguards noticed him again. 

Draco felt Weasley tense beside him as she spotted Harry squashed between two men at one of the private booths. The men’s hands were under the table, and Draco had a vague idea what they were doing due to the way that Harry kept squirming. 

“Motherfuckers,” Blaise hissed. “Ginny, do you want to try and get Potter out while Draco and I torment...what was his name? Daryl?”

“Dale,” Draco corrected on autopilot. He had spotted Dale at the bar, chatting to a boy who barely looked old enough to be there. Dale’s hand was touching the boy’s arm, and once again Draco had to fight the urge to physically tear the man apart.

Two more minutes and he’d be able to do much more.

Draco felt Weasley walk away from them, and he and Blaise took that as their prompt to target Dale.

One of the Muggles standing nearby to Dale was one of the ones who had beaten Draco, so Draco took great pleasure in punching the man in the stomach.

The man let out a pitiful whine, clutching his stomach and doubling over.

“You have a problem?” Dale hissed, turning around to glare at the man.

“Sorry, boss; stomach ache,” the man muttered, taking deep, slow breaths.

Dale rolled his eyes and turned his attention back to the boy, and Draco nudged Blaise with his elbow. Draco heard Blaise’s murmured incantation of “ _Imperio_ ,” and then Dale stood up a lot straighter, stepping away from the boy.

“I have business to attend to,” Dale stated, turning to his bodyguards. “I want to be left alone until I say, understand?”

With that said, Dale began walking to his office with Draco and Blaise close behind.

When the office door closed, Blaise cast Silencing and Locking charms at the door, while Draco removed the Disillusionment Charm on himself.

Dale didn’t even blink twice at Draco’s sudden appearance until Blaise stopped the Imperius curse that he was under.

Dale stared at him for a moment, furrowing his brow as he tried to comprehend how he had gotten from the bar to his office without meaning to.

“Hello, Dale,” Draco said coldly, which finally snapped the man out of his reverie.

“What the fuck are you doing in my office?” Dale hissed, striding towards Draco until a spell from Blaise threw him backwards. “What the-?”

“Nice place you have here,” Draco commented, sneering as Dale stood on shaking legs. “How many people have you fucked over and taken advantage of to get it?”

“Oh I see,” Dale spat, pressing a large button on his desk and frowning when nothing happened. “You’re one of those anti-drug types who thinks that I’m this evil bastard who forced it down their throats. Well newsflash, buddy, I don’t give anything to anyone unless they want it. So whose problems are you trying to blame me for?”

“That doesn’t matter,” Draco said, nodding slightly to let Blaise know he wanted him.

A spell lifted Dale off his feet and pinned him against the wall. Dale looked around frantically, clutching his throat as he started to struggle for breath.

“You take advantage of people,” Draco pressed on, moving towards Dale and kneeing him in the crotch. “Sure, some people might ask for drugs, but a lot of them have other issues that you’re exploiting. But you’ve got all the money and sex you could hope for, so why should you stop doing what you’re doing?”

“Exactly,” Dale ground out, not understanding Draco’s point. “I’m a businessman, and sometimes you have to step on people to get what you want. You’re obviously not a law official so what do you want? I can offer you a lot of money - or whores, if you’re into that.”

“What _I_ want,” Draco snarled, “is for you to suffer for what you’ve done.”

Another spell threw Dale across the room, and he hit the floor with a heavy thud. The man groaned weakly, struggling to push himself up off the floor.

“What _you_ are going to do, Dale,” Draco said, “is to give up this club and demolish it. You are going to turn yourself into the police for every single crime that you’ve committed, and you are going to give all of your money to drug rehabilitation services. Oh, and two of your bodyguards beat me up; I want you to tell the rest of them that those two betrayed you and need to deal with them appropriately.”

“You’re fucking insane,” Dale shouted, still not willing to back down. Draco would have respected him for it, had he not detested the man so much. “You-”

Draco nodded at Blaise, and Dale was under the Imperius again in an instance. 

“Shall we see how your girlfriend’s doing?” Draco said to Blaise with a smile as Dale began rooting through his safe and pulling out paperwork.

Weasley was evidently a very good match for Blaise. She was sat next to Harry at the booth, while the men who had been sat with him were now on the floor with blood dripping from their noses and looking very dazed. One, Draco noticed with a shudder, was sobbing into very bloodied hands.

“Sorry about all the blood,” Weasley said with a sheepish grin. 

Draco rolled his eyes and sat on the opposite side of the booth, reaching his arms across it. “Alright, Harry?”

“Is this real?” Harry asked in a quiet voice. His eyes were wide, and his fingers were coated in blood from where he had dipped them in the blood splatters on the table. No doubt the drugs had made his perceptions of things worse than they were.

“It was just from a nosebleed,” Weasley said hotly. “There’s nothing bad about it.”

“They’re fine, Harry,” Draco added, giving Weasley a sharp look. “Are you going to come home now?”

Harry shook his head furiously. “I don’t want to give it up again; I can’t do it anymore. Please don’t make me.”

“Ok,” Draco said quickly, ignoring the way that Blaise and Weasley's head whipped towards him. It wasn’t like he was actually going to let Harry continue taking the drugs, but he needed to get Harry to go home with him. He would still work on getting Harry clean again, but Draco reckoned he might have to do more research into it this time, even if it meant getting outside help. Trying to better his place in society didn’t matter to him anymore, not until Harry was healthy. 

“Please, Harry,” Weasley said softly. “We all miss you.”

The moment that followed seemed to go on forever, until finally Harry nodded.

***

Draco called in sick at work again. He knew he was in danger of losing his job, but somehow that didn’t matter to him anymore. He needed to be by Harry’s side, keeping an eye on him. He was currently allowing Harry to take Ecstasy, and fighting desperately to keep Harry’s cravings for meth at bay. They had once again fallen into a life of smoking and sex, but Draco knew now that they couldn’t continue that way again. Draco had been sucked into Harry’s world, but it was now up to him to get them both out. 

Draco should have seen before how replacing drugs with sex and cigarettes was Harry’s way of crying out that he didn’t know how to deal with everything he had going on, but at that point Draco had just been glad to get Harry to stop using. 

From what Draco had read from the books he had gotten from the library, going ‘cold turkey’ - completely cutting off the drugs - was a very difficult but sometimes effective way of breaking drug addiction. However that method didn’t teach Harry how to cope with the issues that drove him to addiction in the first place. What Harry needed was to find a way to give up the drugs while simultaneously sorting through the other issues he had going on, but to do that Harry needed to _want_ help. However at the moment, the thought seemed to be proving too difficult for Harry. 

Thankfully Draco had Blaise and Ginny at his side - and who knew he’d ever refer to a Weasley by their first name. But somewhere down the line Ginny had become an important friend to him, even though she frightened him just a little bit. Ginny knew a lot about Harry, and combining that knowledge with possible treatment ideas was a great help.

Draco had tried going down the ‘reunite Harry with Granger and Weasley’ route, but Harry said he wanted nothing to do with them. He said they treated him like he was contagious, and when Ginny quickly shot that down, Harry altered things by saying that he didn’t want his friends to see him like he was.

Still, Ginny had told Granger and Weasley that Harry was safe and getting help from Draco. Draco had been horrified that she had thrown his name in there, but Ginny insisted it would be fine. 

Granger had confronted Draco the next day, and rather than demanding that Draco hand Harry over, she had instead tearfully hugged him. To his surprise, Granger had told Draco that she was in the process of opening a mental health clinic in the Wizarding World - the first of its kind - and seeing as he had been having luck with Harry, did he want to become a counsellor when it opened? Draco hadn’t expected that in the slightest, and all he had been able to do was mutter that he needed to actually help Harry first before he got involved with anyone else.

They finally hit a breakthrough when Ginny revealed to Draco that out of all the interventions Granger and Weasley had staged, and all the rehab attempts, the only thing that ever made Harry come close to getting help was when Andromeda had banned Harry from seeing his godson Teddy. There had been a lot of screaming on Harry’s part, but unfortunately instead of agreeing with Granger’s plan of rehab, that had been the day Harry fled into the Muggle world and shut his friends out.

The Teddy route became a definite plan the day that Harry called Draco to his room on the 14th April. 

Harry was sat on his bed, shaking violently, and holding tightly onto a bag of what looked like crystals - meth, Draco recognised. 

“What’s the matter?” Draco asked frantically, feeling a slight sense of relief when he saw that the bag was still sealed.

“Teddy’s three today,” Harry said quietly, drawing his knees to his chest and wrapping his arms around them. “I completely forgot about it; I didn’t even get him a present.”

“You miss him,” Draco stated plainly. Harry tensed, clearly hurt by Draco’s words, but that was a good thing; Draco needed to drive the point home. “You understand why you’re banned from seeing him, don’t you?”

“Of course I do!” Harry snapped, whipping his head up to glare at Draco. “I-”

“If you miss him,” Draco cut in, “then why don’t you try harder to get help? You don’t have to go to a rehab clinic, but there’s plenty of day services that can help you.”

“I don’t know if I can do it,” Harry whispered, dropping his head back to his knees. “All my life I had to be strong; as a kid I didn’t have anyone who loved me so I had to look after myself, and as a teenager the whole Wizarding World started to look to me as a hero. But now, with this, I- it’s too much for me. The drugs make me feel good, and they keep me awake so I don’t have nightmares. I feel _happy_ on them. Taking them means I can forget about everyone that I let die.”

“Until they wear off, which then means you need another dose to escape your feelings again,” Draco pointed out. “Harry, I understand you’ve got a lot of shit going on, but you can’t go on like this. Those drugs are going to give you a heart attack, or you’ll overdose again and maybe next time you won’t survive, or you’ll meet a dealer who gets you killed if you can’t keep up payments. Is that worth it?”

Harry shook his head. “No, but-”

“I wanted to bring Teddy to see you, I really did,” Draco pressed on. Harry was listening to him, and the information seemed to be sinking in; Draco couldn’t give up now. “But if you’re not high then you’re smoking, or we’re fucking, and Teddy can’t be around someone like that. He needs someone stable to look after him and love him-”

“I do love him!” Harry screeched, making Draco jump as Harry edged towards him. “Don’t tell me that I don’t.”

“If you love him,” Draco said plainly, trying not to smirk at his success of getting a reaction out of Harry, “then do this.” He handed Harry a pamphlet from his pocket, with details of a Muggle group therapy session and one-to-one counselling. 

Harry studied the pamphlet for a long time. Finally he said, “can’t you deal with me anymore?” and the pain in Harry’s voice struck Draco deep.

“I can,” Draco promised, taking Harry’s hands in his and holding them tight. The bag of meth fell to the floor, and Harry dropped his gaze to it longingly. “I lied to you, Harry. I’m not a Healer; I’m a janitor. I wanted to help you and take all the credit to move up in the world. But then I fell in love with you and realised that you matter more than where I sit in society. I-”

He was cut off when Harry pressed his lips firmly against his. 

“I’ve lied to you _and_ my friends for a long time,” Harry murmured, resting his forehead against Draco’s. “You don’t need to apologise; just show me how much you love me now.”

Harry pulled at Draco’s shoulders, bringing him onto the bed and on top of Harry. Harry reached up and kissed him again, spreading his legs so that Draco’s fell in between.

Draco spelled away their clothes and cast the Protection spells that Harry still insisted on using. He prepared Harry carefully, moving his fingers inside Harry teasingly slow.

Draco didn’t fuck Harry hard and rough like he normally would, but instead he thrust inside Harry carefully and deliberately, kissing Harry slowly and deeply all the while. 

He kissed away Harry’s demands to be fucked; if he wanted to be loved, then Draco would show him what that meant. He was almost crying at the intensity of it, the gentleness surprisingly intimate. 

They came together in a tangle of limbs and panting heavily. Harry clung on tight to Draco’s shoulders and didn’t let him go for a long time.

Later on that day, Harry sent out two letters. One was a birthday card to Teddy, and the other was one to Andromeda, telling her that he was finally going to get the help he needed.

_Two Months Later_

Draco walked into the reception room of the community centre, grabbed some coffee in a paper cup, and sat down at a table.

“Hi, Draco,” said Andrea, who he had sat next to. “How’s your counselling training going?”

Andrea’s boyfriend Ricky had been one of Dale’s ‘boys’, too. Andrea had urged Ricky into counselling after Dale’s drug dealing business collapsed, and he ended up in the same group sessions as Harry. That had been something for them to bond over, and as a result Andrea and Draco had become semi-friends as well - semi because even if Draco wasn’t involved with Death Eaters anymore, he still didn’t really want to be _friends_ with a Muggle. Still, Andrea understood Draco’s feelings about the situation better than Blaise or Ginny did.

“It’s going great,” Draco answered belatedly, realising he had been staring into space. “The woman I’m working for thinks I’ll be more than ready by the time she opens the clinic next month.”

Being semi-friends with a Muggle, working for Granger, and supporting his boyfriend Harry Potter through drug addiction therapy? Merlin, Draco was glad his father wasn’t around because he’d have never heard the end of it. Still, Draco wasn’t complaining; he was going to have a worthwhile job, and Harry’s therapy was going well. He had been sober for a almost a fortnight now, and Draco was so very proud of him; Draco was still struggling to quit smoking. 

Andrea beamed at him, until her attention was drawn away by the doors to the main hall opening. 

Ricky and Harry walked out together, looking far healthier than they had in their first week. Harry had started to wear his glasses again - apparently Dale had preferred Harry without them as it made him look ‘prettier’. Draco thought he looked gorgeous.

Harry grinned when he saw Draco, hurrying towards him. Harry grabbed the coffee cup from him and swallowed a mouthful, pulling a face behind the cup. “I don’t know how you drink this without sugar,” Harry said with a shudder.

“How did it go today?” Draco asked as they bid goodbye to the Muggles and walked to the back alley to Apparate home.

“Fine,” Harry answered quietly. “They, er, they’re doing a family meet in a couple of weeks. I’d maybe like to, I don’t know, invite Ron and Hermione - if they want to see me again. I’ve been pretty shitty to them for a long time, but the point of this meet is to make amends in a safe place - something like that, anyway. You’ve been working with Hermione; what do you think?”

Draco didn’t know whether to laugh or groan. “What are you even asking me for?! She loves you, and she’d be thrilled to see you again; her and Weasley.”

Harry’s face it up. “I’ve missed them a lot recently,” he admitted. “You’re invited, too, of course.”

“Of course,” Draco agreed with a small smile.

Harry paused in his walk, leaning in to kiss Draco softly.

“I spoke about you today,” Harry said, linking his fingers with Draco’s. “I told them all how I couldn’t have done any of this without you. Draco Malfoy - my hero.”

**Author's Note:**

> Content Warnings: Drug addiction, drug usage, referenced rape (not between Harry and Draco), non-con due to drug use (not between Harry and Draco), violence, language, sex
> 
> Thanks for reading! Please leave a comment for the author here or on LIVEJOURNAL ♥


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